The Godfather’s Most Beautiful Moment
SPOILER WARNING FOR ALL MOVIES IN THE GODFATHER TRILOGY
The Godfather, directed by Francis Coppola, begins on the day of a wedding in a dimly-lit, quiet office. Don Corleone, leader of a crime family and father of the bride, listens to the request of Bonasera, as dictated by Sicilian tradition. Bonasera cries for his own daughter, who was brutalized by boys trying to take advantage of her. He sought justice through the police and the courts, but they did not give him the justice that he sought. Now, he pleads for Corleone to be the agent of vengeance that the law could not.
Don Corleone, however, finds Bonasera’s request and behavior to be disrespectful. He is slighted that Bonasera went to the police first and only sought him out as a last resort. Furthermore, he calmly points out to Bonasera that his daughter is still alive; asking for the assailants’ deaths would not be justice. Had Bonasera truly sought his friendship—not just his power—and respected him as Godfather, Bonasera’s request would have been unnecessary; perhaps the situation could have even been avoided entirely, had he worn the fear and respect as a friend to the Corleones.
Only after his admonishment of him does Bonasera bow, kiss Don Corleone’s ring, call him by his title, and ask for friendship, and only then does Don Corleone promise his intervention—in exchange for a service for “a day that may never come.” In private, he demands that the deed be carried out by his most reliable men so as to avoid any needless death. Then, he takes a moment to be with his family and celebrate his daughter’s marriage.
In only the first scene of a 3-hour movie, we learn everything about Don Corleone’s character to understand him. He is a man who embodies the concept of crime not just as a business, but as a matter of family, loyalty, and honor. Whatever he does, he does not do wantonly, but on behalf of those who trust him as a father figure.
This characterization persists through all sorts of gratuitously gruesome events. After Corleone becomes the victim of an assassination attempt, his son Michael goes into hiding in Italy for avenging him on his own terms, then his other son Sonny is killed in response. Despite all of his, Vito Corleone rebukes this war between crime families and extends the olive branch to his enemies, willing to move heaven and earth if it meant Michael could return home and his family could find some kind of peace again.
How Vito Corleone lived is what defines him as one of cinema’s most iconic and compelling characters. However, in my opinion, how he died represents not just what the character stood for, but what he ultimately had earned.
The scene is not some grand, glorious finale, but instead a small, quiet moment in Vito’s life. He has put aside his persona as the Godfather and is instead being a grandfather, enjoying a sunny day and gardening with his grandson Anthony, who is completely oblivious of the kind of man Vito is. After some brief lessons in using a spray-can, Vito decides it’s time for some fun and beckons the boy over to play, using oranges to make funny faces. The two start playing and chasing each other between the tomato plants, and we see Vito’s face filled with joy. Silently and suddenly, though, his smile is taken over by pain as he clutches his heart and realizes something is wrong. Before long, he stumbles over and falls, absent of any expression, as he hears is grandson say “I love you” one last time. Although Vito is silent in this moment during the movie, Mario Puzo’s original story has Vito exclaim with his final breath: “Life is so beautiful.”
And so it was that Vito Corleone spent his last, dying moments in joy with a grandson seemingly unaware of what he had just witnessed.
I believe that this was the perfect, most poetic sendoff that Vito Corleone could have gotten. Even though the mafia was a profession—and a very cold-hearted one at that—it was the dedication to being with and for his family that mattered far more to the late Corleone. That his life ends not brooding alone in an office, but simply playing in a vibrant field, symbolizes what Vito truly prioritized.
The death of the first Godfather is more than just a powerful moment, however. To me, it represents the importance of what we allow to matter in life. A life of power and control, even at the risk of pain and loss, can be an intensely coveted thing. Think of all you could do if you had the fear, the respect, and the influence of a man like Don Corleone. But in the end, did all of that truly matter?
When your life is complete, the worldly things that you have gathered cannot fulfill you. One can be grateful for them, of course, but they will not come with you when you leave your body behind—instead, it is the people that you loved and the moments that you shared that offer warmth when it’s time to go.
Look no further than the life of Vito’s son and successor, Michael Corleone. This Godfather was a far cry from the soft-treading man that his father was; instead, Michael prioritizes his role as a businessman above anything else. Behold how that turned out: a life spent breeding treachery and distrust, a marriage shattered as his wife resorted to something she knew was “unholy and evil” because she couldn’t bring herself to bear one more of his children, and a betrayal from his own brother that led to Michael watching his men pull the trigger in vengeance. Michael’s story in The Godfather Part II ends in solitary contemplation, for he is left with nothing but the weight of his actions and a living which he allowed to be robbed of its soul.
I would be remiss not to mention The Godfather Part III, but I have only experienced it through a handful of clips and several synopsis readings. I reserve no opinionated consensus for a movie I haven’t actually seen, but I can at least say that its ending nonetheless does align with what I’ve been trying to say, as Michael Corleone dies sitting quietly and alone, with nothing of his own legacy in sight but an empty estate. It’s a fate that seems hollow and tormenting when compared to Vito’s, but it is very much an earned fate, despite Michael’s attempts throughout the film to try and atone for his atrocities.
Life, by nature, is uncertain and full of trouble. What we may dream today and become tomorrow can be light years apart. But the goal of a lifetime’s journey is a treasure not of the world, but of the spirit. It is not made of something so lustrous and luxurious as money or servants, but rather the bonds of trust and love that come with loyalty family, friendship, and community. Through those things, perhaps any life can ultimately be as beautiful as Vito Corleone described.
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Credit to The Independent, Favim.com, and Animatedspirit.com for respective images.
The Godfather Trilogy (1972-1990) dir. Francis Ford Coppola belongs to Paramount Pictures